Dark Reflection
by S.J. Kohl
Summary: Rufus is experiencing issues with weakness and control. Post game, pre-AC. Rufus/Tseng, Tseng/Rufus. Warnings: violence, violent sex, blood, toys, bondage, sado-masochism, masturbation, denial of orgasm, self-voyeurism, knife play, power games, dub-con.
1. Chapter 1

**Dark Reflection  
**By S.J. Kohl  
Rufus/Tseng, Tseng/Rufus, Rufus/…mirror?  
NC-17

**Summary:** Umm…difficult to say. Rufus has…issues?  
**Warnings:** Violence, sex, violent sex, blood, toys, bondage, angst, sadism, masochism, self-gratification, self-voyeurism, denial of orgasm, rape?/non-con?, knife-play, power/control games, illness/disease…and, um, language. But I don't think anyone's going to notice that one with all the other warnings going on…

**A/N:** Written for my good friend LiamJohansen on DeviantArt, for her birthday. Look her up sometime!

* * *

Rufus pressed one hand against the mirror and leaned forward until his breath puffed out, white, against the glass. He could almost see it behind him. Dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin gleaming in the semi-darkness. Slender, gun-callused hands gripping his hips with bruising force as…

Rufus sucked in a sharp breath and moved his other hand, shoving the dildo in hard and relishing the intense, burning pain that accompanied the movement. He didn't need lube, didn't want it. It was a ridiculous fantasy, one that would be made worse the easier it was to entertain. Rufus pulled the object out until only the tip remained inside, and then he shoved it in again, harder this time.

He bit down on his lip until the acrid scent of hot blood flooded the air and he could feel it trickling down his chin. Red, he knew, but he imagined it was white. Thick and salty. He wouldn't cry out, wouldn't make a sound. He wouldn't whisper the name that rose up in his throat. A ridiculous fantasy. He was Rufus Shinra. He was all that was left of his father's empire, and he had no weaknesses.

Pull, shove.

And the blood flowed. Rufus closed his eyes. It was easier to see that way, easier to imagine the way that black curtain of hair would fall across his back, tracing the marks he hadn't allowed anyone to see, hadn't told anyone about. Easier to imagine the controlled breaths behind him, the breathing of a man who never came undone, was never driven off balance. Easier to believe the rough thrusts came from living flesh instead of plastic.

Pull, shove. Thrust, thrust, thrust and he sank forward, naked flesh against the cold glass of the mirror. But the pain was fading, and the pleasure…

Rufus stopped. Breathed. And sank down to his knees with his shoulders resting against the tile floor and the hard black plastic still inside him. He was hard and aching and close. Too close. He'd almost lost himself that time, almost given in.

But he never allowed himself to give in. Rufus Shinra, take his pleasure on another man's cock? Not likely. Other men knelt for _him, _and if it hadn't been for Meteor…

Rufus groaned and reached around behind him. He pulled the dildo loose and dropped it to the floor, biting back a wince and swallowing blood down with it. He shuddered and forced his screaming leg muscles to work, to move, to bend until he was lying flat against the icy tile floor on his stomach, eyes closed as the chill ripped through skin and muscle. It would take a few minutes, but the cold would kill his erection. And then maybe he would finally get some sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dark Reflection: Chapter Two  
**By S.J. Kohl

**A/N:** Written for my good friend LiamJohansen on DeviantArt, for her birthday. Look her up sometime!

* * *

Tseng stared. He'd opened the door slowly, quietly to avoid disturbing Rufus, but he needn't have bothered. Rufus was gone. Not _gone, _but out cold. Naked and layed out on the floor, sleeping harder than he'd slept in days. Momentary panic sliced through Tseng's nerves, but no. He could see the rhythmic throb of a pulse in Rufus's neck. It had taken him a long time to recover from the explosion, and they'd all been so worried he wouldn't make it that they were still a little jumpy. He was, at least. He couldn't be sure about the others. Of course, they didn't know what he knew, and perhaps that made all the difference.

But it wasn't his place to tell them. They would find out if and when Rufus decided to share the information, and not before. For now…

Tseng shook his head. He couldn't leave Rufus lying there. The floor was cold, and he still wasn't fully recovered, would never _be _fully recovered. Tseng shut and locked the door behind him, just to be sure no one else would come in—Rufus wouldn't want to be seen like this—and he knelt, crouching on the balls of his feet, at Rufus's side. Suppressing a sigh, he allowed his eyes to trail over the light dusting of shadows that fell across the pale skin of Rufus's back. It was spreading quickly. He'd noticed it a few weeks before, the first time he'd picked Rufus up off the floor and tucked him into bed, and then it had just been a patch of darkness at the small of his back. It had crept upward since then, dark where it was concentrated around the spine and lighter as it moved outward, a spider web of shadows creeping beneath the skin.

There was dried blood on the floor. Just a few drops, to be sure, but it was enough to have Tseng narrowing his eyes and looking closer. Cut, swollen lip that was still leaking blood, meaning Rufus hadn't been asleep for long. And…Tseng allowed himself to touch the skin, hoping the infraction wouldn't get him killed but willing to accept the possibility. There was always a possibility, after all. His touch was light, and he knew already what he would see, especially since the dildo he'd become so used to seeing over the past weeks was lying on the floor nearby.

He was right. Blood, dried and crusting, trailed down between Rufus's thighs.

Tseng sighed again and pulled his hands away. Rufus was still so young. He had a lot to learn. Gently turning the man onto his back and ignoring the still half-hard cock, Tseng slipped one hand beneath Rufus's neck and the other beneath his knees and rose up onto his feet, taking Rufus with him. Just as he lay Rufus down on the bed, however, and before he pulled his hands back from skin that was drenched with cold sweat, Rufus's eyes snapped open.

Tseng froze, knowing better than to move at this point.

The blue stare was piercing, colder than the floor, and then there was the voice. Low, commanding. Powerful. Tseng shivered slightly, just slightly, at the sound of his name, a caress like steel sheathed in silk.

"Tseng."

Tseng didn't close his eyes, didn't step back or pull his hands away. He only met Rufus's unyielding gaze and nodded, an almost imperceptible move. "Sir."

It happened so fast Tseng didn't even know Rufus had moved until he found himself on his stomach on the bed, his face pressed into the mattress and Rufus straddling his thighs.

"You shouldn't be in here, Tseng."

Death was always a possibility. Tseng knew that better than anyone, but it didn't matter. Rufus was his boss, his friend, his… It didn't matter. He served. He had always served, and he always would. If his death was the price for that service, well…he had always known he would give his life for Rufus Shinra some day. It had been an accident the first time. He'd had an appointment to speak with Rufus about the blueprints for Healin Lodge, and the President hadn't shown. So Tseng had gone to his room, and the door hadn't been fully shut. He still remembered that first sight of all that skin, healed of cuts and burns and moonlight pale in the soft light of the lamps. He remembered the shiver of fear that had rippled through him when he recognized that patch of shadow for what it was, and he remembered the glint of blood and the black plastic shaft that had still been gripped in Rufus's hand. He'd gone in, unable to breathe, unable to leave Rufus lying on the floor, and he'd put the President to bed. There had been no mention of it the following day, and Tseng had only been able to assume that Rufus either believed he had crawled into the bed by himself or, not sure which of them had entered his private territory, was not yet ready to confront the Turks about it. Tseng hadn't been able to stay away after that. He'd gone back, night after night, his blood itching beneath his skin, just to see, just to check. And to touch. Because Rufus was who he was, and, in daylight, he was untouchable. Tseng breathed. He could smell Rufus on the sheets, and it was enough to make his pulse jump, his fingers twitch. But he didn't move. He didn't dare move. "No, sir," he whispered. "I shouldn't be in here."

Rufus paused, cocked his head to the side, considered. "You've been in here a lot lately."

"Yes, sir." Tseng couldn't lie to Rufus, could _never _lie to Rufus.

"You wouldn't fight. You're stronger than me, but you wouldn't fight. You would let me kill you."

It wasn't a question, but Tseng answered anyway. "Yes, sir."

There was a long silence, a shift in weight as Rufus enjoyed the feel of his cock brushing against the expensive material of Tseng's suit. "Why?"

Tseng's fingers twitched again, and his hands were gathered up, pinned above his head, and lashed to the wrought iron headboard with…what? He looked up. A plastic cord, probably from the clock on the table beside the bed. Simple, expedient. Rufus hadn't changed at all. Tseng let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Because you are who you are."

"Because you are a Turk and I am a Shinra."

"No." Tseng tensed as a finger slipped beneath his jacket, trailed across the skin just above the waistband of his slacks.

Rufus smiled. This was what he was, what he was meant for. To take, to control. He didn't give in, and he was not weak. "Misplaced loyalty," he whispered.

"No," Tseng murmured, but his voice was steady, confident. "Not because you're a Shinra."

"No?" Rufus paused again, his nail just barely digging into the skin. Had he been wrong? Was Tseng not the loyal servant he'd always thought him to be?

"No."

"Then why?"

Tseng relaxed, just released all the tension in his muscles and gave himself over to whatever Rufus wanted to do with him. "Because you are Rufus."

Rufus laughed. "Even more misplaced than I had thought, then."

Tseng only shrugged. "As you will, sir."

Rufus pushed both hands up beneath jacket and button down, feeling power and muscle beneath his touch. Warm skin, sharp shoulder blades, hard knots of spine. Tseng was beautiful. He shifted slightly, slid his hand down Tseng's right leg until he found the hem of those black slacks and pushed it up, looking for… There. No Turk was ever without weapons. Tseng always kept a gun in a sheath strapped to his left shoe, but on the right… Rufus smiled. The knife was sharp, well-honed. He slid the blade up skin and cloth until it came to rest at the base of Tseng's skull where one sharp move would shove it up underneath the bone and into the brain. "Give me a reason not to kill you."

There were several reasons. There were only four Turks remaining, and Rufus needed all of them in order to retain what power he had. Tseng had skills and knowledge and experience that Reno, Rude, and Elena all lacked. Tseng loved Rufus, was loyal to Rufus and only to Rufus. He didn't list any of those reasons. Instead, he said, "You say my name in your sleep."

The knife moved, trembled. "What?"

"I come in and I pick you up and put you in the bed, spread the covers out over you and brush a hand through your hair. You always smile and brush your cheek against my palm. You say my name."

The knife steadied, pressed in and in until a drop of blood welled to the surface, and Rufus shifted, shoving one hand beneath Tseng's body to undo belt and button and zipper before jerking the soft material down around Tseng's thighs and moving so his legs were between Tseng's, spreading them wide. "That means nothing," he said. "Why shouldn't I kill you?"

The entry was swift and brutal, and pain lanced through Tseng's body as Rufus began thrusting immediately, hard and callous, but he didn't make a sound. He was being reckless, he knew, but if he was going to die, why not say what was important, what he'd always wanted to say and had never quite been able? "Because I am what you need, what you crave. Because you need to feel, and you need me to do it."

Rufus growled and thrust again. Tight, hot. A little slick, and he knew he'd torn the flesh enough for the blood to flow. He couldn't breathe. It was too much, already too much for him and he laughed at the absurdity his body had become. The abomination. But he didn't stop, refused to stop. And Tseng's words only spurred him to thrust harder, to fuck, to take what was his to take and to give nothing in return but blood and pain and a few spurts of white when the time came for it. "I don't need you," he whispered. "I don't need anyone."

Tseng grunted and forced himself to lie still against his body's instinctive urge to pull away from the source of pain. He was a Turk. Pain was life. And he belonged to Rufus, in all ways and all times. "You need me." He breathed and closed his eyes. Fast and hard. Pain, but there was some pleasure to be found even in this, even in the cold metal of the blade that pierced the skin further with every thrust. "You love me."

Rufus snarled and jerked the knife, slicing through fabric before he dropped it, gripping a handful of sleek black hair and jerking back hard to force a gasp from between those red lips, red lips that were startling in a face with hardly more color than virgin snow. His other hand danced upward and in, closing around Tseng's throat as he moved and thrust, his breath ragged, haunted. "I don't…need…you." His fingers tightened and he leaned down, clamping his teeth down on skin and muscle without restraint, his eyes wild as the blood welled up beneath his lips, iron fire on his tongue, and he thrust again, his muscles tightening as he came, pulling out so the white ropes flew and twisted, mixing with the red that seeped down to stain the sheets. "I don't need you," he whispered again as he collapsed against Tseng's back, sweat slicking his skin and soaking the shredded fabric of Tseng's suit as he shivered, shuddered, and tried to breathe. "I don't need you."

Tseng didn't answer. He knew the truth, and so did Rufus. But Rufus would never ask for what he needed, much less for what he didn't want to need, and so Tseng just waited, just lay there while Rufus breathed against his back and the sweat cooled and began to dry. He slowed his own breathing, forced it back to calm and rhythmic and ignored the sting of the bite on his shoulder and the burning between his legs. Minor injuries, easily discounted. The torn clothes were more of a worry. The last thing he wanted to do was run into Reno on his way down the hall in clothes that were torn, shredded, and splattered with blood and semen.

When the breathing behind him finally slowed to match his own, Tseng stirred slightly, shifting his arms in an attempt to get the blood flowing through them again. Of course, only unraveling the cord around his wrists would really help in that area. He could probably free himself, but there wasn't much sense in making Rufus angrier than he already was, so he might as well wait until Rufus decided to release him.

Rufus sat up and reached out to slip the cord free of its simple knot, but he didn't unwind it. Tseng could take care of that on his own or he could stay like that all night. He did move, though, to lie on his back on the other side of the bed, watching idly as Tseng made quick work of his bindings and turned onto his own back, not bothering to straighten his clothes or refasten his slacks. Rufus cocked an eyebrow at the half-hard cock that stood out against the fine black hair between Tseng's thighs. So. There had been some pleasure in the mounting. He would have thought Tseng would have made some effort to disguise _that, _at least. But was it the idea of being used that had turned him on, or was it that _Rufus _had been doing the using? Either way, he was sure it was a poor quality in a Turk to enjoy being forced to submit. "Do you need a Cure?"

Tseng drew in a slow breath and stretched his arms out, relishing the cold, prickling sting as he considered the question. A Cure spell would certainly alleviate the discomfort of the cuts and bruises, but… "No."

Rufus nodded and pulled his gaze up to Tseng's face. "Then you're free to go."


	3. Chapter 3

**Dark Reflection: Chapter Three  
**By S.J. Kohl

**A/N:** Written for my good friend LiamJohansen on DeviantArt, for her birthday. Look her up sometime!

* * *

Rufus's nerves were vibrating with tension, and he shifted his chair back from the desk. This wasn't his office. His office had been blown up with the rest of Shin-Ra Tower when Meteor had come down. No, this was just another room in the apartment he currently inhabited. It wasn't Shin-Ra property, just a space in one of the less devastated districts of Midgar. There was a second apartment on either side of this one. Tseng and Elena shared one; Reno and Rude shared the other, though someone was always on guard in here with him. It wasn't a large apartment, but it would suffice for now. He didn't want to establish a new office, not yet. He wasn't ready for anyone to find out he hadn't died in the explosion. The company had been destroyed; all that remained was Rufus and four Turks, but the game hadn't been played out to the end yet. Not yet. Oh, he had come to some realizations. Using the Lifestream as a source of electricity was foolish, and, in the end, fatal. And the Soldiers…that kind of modification was unstable and too open to contamination.

No, Rufus didn't want to rebuild the corporation as his father had run it, but that didn't mean he didn't intend to rebuild it. He did. He would. After all, there were still things Shin-Ra Company could offer the world. But not yet. It wasn't time yet. They had to wait. There was information he needed, and the city had to be rebuilt. Not enough time had passed yet for him to come forth and offer himself and his resources up for the relief effort. People still remembered; the members of Avalanche had not yet scattered, and…

Rufus snarled as a spasm wracked his back, and he felt the taint creeping in, cold and hungry, spreading beneath his skin and leaking into his blood.

People were still suffering. They still remembered that it was Shin-Ra Company that had brought this down upon them, that Shin-Ra had created Sephiroth and the Geostigma was the price to see that creation fall.

But that memory would fade, and Avalanche would scatter across the continent, each returning to where he'd come from, and all anyone would remember was that they needed help, and help, Rufus could provide. All it took was patience.

Rufus snarled again. The waiting was interminable.

It had been two weeks since that night, and Tseng hadn't said a word about any of it. He hadn't mentioned the mirror, the sex, the Geostigma. He hadn't acted or looked or reacted any differently than he normally did. Nothing had changed. _Nothing. _

No. Rufus scowled. That was not quite true. _Something _had changed, but the change was with him, not Tseng.

Rising to his feet, Rufus stalked across the room toward the door. Rude moved into position behind him as soon as he left the room, but Rufus hardly noticed as he made his way through the apartment and out into the hall. Tseng's apartment was the one on the left. He didn't knock; he just walked in and directed a pointed look at Elena where she stood at the kitchen counter. "Tseng?"

"Yeah…he's…" Elena gestured vaguely in the direction of the hall, but Rufus was already moving. "Hey!" she called. "Rufus…Sir…wait, he's…"

But Rufus didn't care what Tseng was doing. All he cared about was making his way down the hall to the last door on the left. He didn't stop when he got there, just stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

The room was dim, lit only by a couple of soft lamps near the bed. And the furnishings were scarce. There was the bed and the small table beside it, and a door beside the table, which led through a closet to the bathroom that was connected to the apartment's other bedroom as well. There was a desk beside the bedroom door, and on the wall opposite the bed, there was…

A mirror.

A plain, full-length mirror that hung above a cold tile floor. And on the floor before the mirror… Rufus stepped cautiously across the room, close enough to be sure of what he was seeing, and then closer still. As he bent forward to pick the object up, he sensed movement behind him, but he wasn't fast enough to escape being pulled backwards onto the edge of the bed, one arm strong arm wrapped around his waist and a hand closed about his throat. Rufus couldn't look down, but he could feel warm skin on either side of him. Legs. He was sitting between Tseng's legs.

He could have dropped the dildo and clawed at the hand on his throat, but he didn't. He'd obviously grown too relaxed around his Turks, too distracted to remember that there was no one he could truly trust, to have been taken in by such a simple maneuver as this. But it didn't matter. There would be a chance; there always was. So Rufus kept hold of the dildo and lashed out with a weapon he'd always found to me more effective than guns or fists. "Do you like to get fucked, Tseng?"

Tseng smiled and relaxed his hold slightly so that Rufus would be able to breathe and speak without difficulty. It was easy to forget sometimes that Rufus was only twenty-two years old. The anger and distrust that colored his words stung, just a little, but it wasn't anything he hadn't expected. "Yes," he answered, leaning in close to Rufus's ear. "I like to get fucked."

Rufus couldn't stop the slight widening of his eyes. He hadn't expected that answer. From Reno, yes, but not from _Tseng. _"So this," he lifted his hand, gesturing to encompass both toy and mirror. "You do this often?"

Tseng laughed. "No. No, this is for you."

"_What?"_

"It's been two weeks, Rufus. You're sick, and you're tired, but you aren't sleeping. That little bit of 'relief' you'd been giving yourself so that you'd be able to sleep…you aren't even allowing yourself that much anymore." Tseng smiled. It felt good, holding Rufus trapped like this. He'd never thought it would feel good or right to go so far _against _the protective service his job demanded, but he didn't plan on hurting Rufus. At least, not much, and this felt…exhilarating. He didn't dare move, though. The moment he moved his arms, Rufus would be gone. "You need to relax," he said, flicking his tongue out to lick the shell of Rufus's ear.

Rufus…hissed. Even in his own mind he couldn't qualify the sound as anything else. "What the _fuck—_" he hissed again as Tseng's tongue traced its way back up his ear, but he still didn't struggle to break free. He wasn't trapped; he didn't need to struggle. "What gives you the right to keep track of what I choose to do in the privacy of my own apartment?"

"Nothing," Tseng replied, gently tracing the line of Rufus's jaw with the tip of one finger without releasing his hold on Rufus's throat. "But that didn't stop me from doing it."

Rufus couldn't breathe. Everything was too close, too tight, and Tseng's hand on his throat was like a vice. If he moved…no. He wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction. "You won't like what I'm going to do to you."

"Is it more of the same?"

"No," Rufus snarled. "You liked _that, _didn't you?"

"Yes," Tseng breathed, tilting Rufus's head to the side and drawing in the scent of the warm skin of his neck—wildfire and autumn rain, with a hint of gunpowder. "You didn't intend it, but there was a certain…enjoyment…to be found in the act. Which is not to say I wouldn't appreciate lube and a bit more consideration next time."

Rufus wouldn't ask. He wouldn't. "Next time?"

"Of course. But not tonight. I have something different planned for tonight."

How could he possibly have crafted plans for this specific night? Rufus most certainly did not make a point to invade his rooms on a regular basis or to warn him beforehand. But then…there was that mirror to consider…

"I hadn't expected you tonight, of course. But I knew you would come sometime. You have this need to know things, Rufus, and I wasn't providing you with any information. So you came to get the answers yourself. Generally, you prefer subtlety to brute force, but there are times when a direct confrontation is the most effective. So," Tseng released his hold on Rufus, letting his arms fall slowly to his sides. "What do you want to know?"

Rufus tensed. He should leave. This wasn't the kind of behavior he expected from Tseng. Tseng was controlled and calculating, cool and untouchable. Not even Reno had managed to ruffle those stark black feathers of his, and Shiva knew the man had tried. But this…well, it was still calculated, still controlled, but there was something _hot _simmering beneath the surface of those words that Rufus couldn't quite place. He should leave. But Tseng was right. He had come for answers, and what purpose was there in leaving without them? Besides, fleeing would be to admit defeat.

Rufus stood and turned to face Tseng, who leaned back on his elbows on the mattress. He tossed the dildo onto the sheets, tired of the familiar grip he had on the object. "Why did you come to my room? Not that night, but the ones before. The first night."

"The night I first noticed the Stigma." Tseng nodded. "Do you want the full answer or the partial one?"

Rufus didn't bother to respond. He just waited for the answer.

Sitting up, Tseng picked up the toy and dragged his fingers down the length of it in a thoughtful gesture. "I'm not sure you remember missing a meeting with me, but it's not something you normally do. I was worried, even more so when you didn't answer my knock at your door. My job is to take care of you and protect you. That's why I went into your room that first night, and why I returned on the nights that followed. But there were two other reasons." He wrapped a hand around the toy and drew it up, from base to tip. "First, because you were vulnerable. It was something I'd never been given the chance to see in you before, and I needed the reminder. It's easy to forget sometimes that you're just as human, and just as imperfect, as the rest of us. You have this intelligence, and this gift, and this _power_ that fills the air around you, but you aren't invulnerable. A Turk, especially, needs to keep that in mind."

Rufus heard the words, but he wasn't sure how he felt about them. He wasn't sure of anything beyond the idle movements of Tseng's fingers along the plastic shaft he held in his hands. His eyes were drawn to the movements, following the path of those fingers along sculpted veins and across the ridge of the plastic head. And he couldn't help remembering the phantom feel of those fingers gripping his hips, holding and pulling and guiding… Rufus dragged his eyes back to Tseng's face and noted the amusement gleaming behind the black of his eyes. "And the second reason?"

"Yes. Well," Tseng leaned back on his elbows again, dropping the toy to rest in his lap. "The second reason is divided into two parts. First, I couldn't quite get enough of seeing you without your clothes on." He smiled, "And second, I loved the way you said my name, and I couldn't help hoping there was a chance I might convince you to say it like that sometime when you were awake."

Rufus stared. "You wanted to _fuck _me?"

"Actually, my original idea involved getting down on my knees and sucking your cock."

Rufus blinked and stared some more. "You've gotten crude, Tseng."

"Whatever it takes to get the point across, Sir. I would love to fuck you. I don't know any gay man, or any Turk—including Elena—who wouldn't love a chance like that. You're gorgeous, powerful, intelligent, and to us, you are everything. Everything. But I don't have to fuck you to feel that. I feel it every day, regardless of where I am or what I'm doing. And that's the point. You. Are. Everything. I would drop to my hands and knees so you could fuck me until I break if that's what you wanted, and I would love every second of it, even if I bled out underneath you."

"You're a _Turk, _Tseng. You don't—"

"Submit?" Tseng laughed. "That's what you don't understand, Rufus. It isn't about submission. It's about choice and need and desire. I know what I need, and it's you. In my life, my bed. Whatever. I serve you. I _choose _to serve you. And there's nothing wrong with a little honest fucking. You should try it. It has nothing to do with weakness or submission and everything to do with strength and choice and pleasure—to let someone else have the control, to let go of everything and allow yourself to just _feel. _Whatever it is you might feel."

The expression was ironical, almost mocking, and Rufus knew Tseng was thinking about feeling pain rather than pleasure, and a thread of guilt twisted its way into his blood. He glanced down at Tseng's lap, and then, quickly, back up. "And the mirror?"

Tseng raised an eyebrow and shifted his hips slightly. "I believe you're more familiar with the purpose of the mirror than I am."


	4. Chapter 4

**Dark Reflection: Chapter Four  
**By S.J. Kohl

**A/N:** Written for my good friend LiamJohansen on DeviantArt, for her birthday. Look her up sometime!

* * *

Tseng took a deep breath as he watched Rufus turn around and study the mirror. It had been a risk, but it was well worth it, whatever happened. He was fairly certain Rufus hadn't gotten laid—to use the term Reno had lately insisted he adopt—since before the explosion, and he was even more certain Rufus had never allowed anyone to take him. It was always about power and being in control. But it was good to learn you didn't always _have _to be in control, especially when something like the Geostigma was involved. Not even Rufus could control the Geostigma.

But perhaps it would better if he didn't allow Rufus too much time to think or consider. He wasn't allowing himself to ask the questions circling around in _his _mind after all—why his name, for starters…why him?—so why should Rufus be offered the luxury of reflection? Besides, he'd always found it was never good to think too much about sex. It was what it was, and what it was _not _was an area in which control was celebrated or prized. So Tseng stood and moved close behind Rufus, wrapping one arm around his waist and splaying the fingers of his other hand out across one of Rufus's sharp hipbones. He leaned forward over Rufus's shoulder and met a pair of cold blue eyes in the mirror.

Rufus's breath hitched and he shivered against the warmth of Tseng's skin. "What are you doing?"

"This is how you see me, isn't it?" Tseng cocked his head at an angle, his eyes scanning the length of the mirror and the forms reflected within it. "This is what you see in the mirror at night."

"Not exactly."

"No," Tseng whispered, and his fingers danced their way over the buttons of Rufus's shirt, unfastening them to reveal pale, chilled skin. Only one layer of clothing today, though, despite the chill Rufus obviously felt. The fabric must be too heavy or too coarse, must aggravate the Stigma. Something would have to be done about that, but not now. Tseng smiled and ran his hands over muscle and bone, across one nipple—dark, he was pleased to see, much darker than the near-white skin around it—and over one prominent collarbone before drifting back down to deal with zippers and buttons and slip his hand inside the customary white trousers. "But this, I gather, is something closer to the fantasy."

Rufus clenched his teeth. "Tseng, I swear to you…"

"What? You'll gut me?" Tseng shrugged and curled his fingers around Rufus's hardening cock, reveling in the heat beginning to pulse beneath the surface. "Go ahead. You know where I keep my knife."

Rufus hissed and closed his eyes, refusing to look, refusing to _see. _But unwilling to pull away either. It felt good, far, far too good. "Tseng."

"Not quite how you were saying it before, but perhaps we'll get there yet. Just give me a moment." Tseng stepped back then, sliding Rufus's shirt off his shoulders and kneeling to unlace the brown leather shoes one at a time. He smiled, amused, as Rufus lifted first one foot and then the other to allow him to remove the shoes, and then the slacks, and he couldn't help but admire the image Rufus presented in the mirror. Eyes closed and head tilted back, blond hair impeccably brushed back as usual, skin flushed and tight, the muscles of his stomach tense and quivering. Tseng trailed his arms along the outsides of Rufus's thighs and hips as he rose to his feet again, once more taking up the position of leaning over Rufus's right shoulder, his lips pressed practically against Rufus's ear. "So…does the fantasy have me naked or fully clothed?"

Rufus pressed his lips together and didn't answer.

"Left up to my own imagination then," Tseng nodded, pulling a small tube of lubrication from his pocket—he had made _some _preparations for Rufus's arrival, after all—and popping the cap open. Normally he wouldn't cut straight to the point; like Rufus, he preferred subtlety and patience—but he felt that direct action was more what Rufus needed at the moment. So he rubbed the gel between his fingers to warm it and then slipped them down between Rufus's legs, circling and pressing just the slightest bit. "Your fantasies, I gather, were more rough than gentle. But I'm in the mood for something different tonight, so this will have to suffice."

Rufus snarled and almost snapped his teeth at the arm Tseng had wrapped around his shoulders to hold him steady. Who was Tseng to tell _him _what would "have to suffice"? But those fingers…they weren't like anything he'd ever felt before. The skin was sensitive, of course, but the way they pressed and touched, it was almost reverent. It felt good. The fabric of Tseng's suit, though, was too coarse. It scraped and burned and he hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes flying wide as he growled and almost shoved Tseng back away from him. "Clothes," he ground out. "Off."

Tseng nodded and stripped without a word, laying his clothes out neatly on the bed behind him before returning to the lube and Rufus's body. He held the man in place, slid two fingers inside and reveling in the hiss that slipped from between Rufus's lips. There had been a lot of those tonight—perhaps Rufus had more in common with Dark Nation than they'd guessed? But Rufus didn't protest, so Tseng moved, sliding them in further and then out again and pressing himself close against Rufus's back, skin to skin, sucking the chill from Rufus's flesh. Another finger and Rufus was leaning forward, one hand on the mirror and his eyes incontrovertibly open as he met Tseng's stare in the mirror, flushed but still impassive.

Tseng smiled a small, tight smile and pulled back, squirting more lube into the palm of his hand and picking up the toy from where it lay on the bed. He wrapped his arms around Rufus's waist and held the dildo at about hip height, lubing it up lazily as he pressed a firm kiss to the join of neck and shoulder, scraping his teeth across the skin he found there and watching as Rufus's gaze flicked down the mirror to watch his hand stroking along the length of plastic. Then, keeping one hand on Rufus's hip to hold him in place, Tseng moved, pressing the tip of the dildo against Rufus's entrance and pushing—not quite hard, but not gently either. There was no reason not to give Rufus _some _of the force he'd become accustomed to over the past weeks.

Rufus gasped and closed his eyes tightly. What the _fuck _was he still doing in this room? Standing here, like this… His legs were shaking, _shaking _damn it, and he was just standing there while Tseng… He bit down on his lip as the toy was pulled out and shoved back in again.

Pull, shove.

And Rufus might have whimpered. There was burning, pain—how could there not be?—but it was minimal, easily discounted. More than that, _far _more than that, there was a sense of fullness and movement that scraped against the inside of his body, slicing at his nerves and causing a shivering tension in muscles he hadn't really known he had. _Holy Shiva…_ Rufus opened his eyes again, and there was that face, pale skin and dark eyes shrouded in a black curtain of hair that fell across his back and brushed against too sensitive skin. Fingers tight against his hip and a _thrusting _that…

Disappeared.

And Rufus _did _whimper this time but Tseng soothed and petted, dropping the dildo to the ground and leaning in close and closer until Rufus could feel it. Hot flesh instead of cold plastic and it pushed in easily, small, tight little thrusts that sang in Rufus's blood until he wasn't quite sure whether how he was still standing. But Tseng was holding him close and _now _he knew why he hadn't left the room and why was it, exactly, that he hadn't done this sooner?

Something about weakness, he knew, but he couldn't quite remember at the moment, not when Tseng's hand was trailing across his skin to wrap around his cock and his own hand was splayed against the mirror, reflected in the glass as he struggled to keep from breaking apart.

Another thrust and he stopped struggling, just let himself shatter because Tseng hit…something... "Oh, fuck," Rufus whispered, pushing back a little, just a little.

Tseng laughed and thrust again. "That's not what you're supposed to say."

But the words faded in and out with the thrusting and Rufus didn't give a fuck what Tseng wanted him to say. All he cared about was the thrusting and Tseng's hand between his thighs. If the bastard stopped, Rufus really _would _gut him. He couldn't close his eyes though. The image—so much darker and deeper in reality than it had ever been in fantasy—held him captivated, and he wasn't quite expecting it, wasn't _quite _ready for it when the slow, tantalizing thrusts became sharp and demanding. Rufus sucked in a breath and shivered, collapsing into Tseng's grip and just trusting Tseng to hold him up. "Tseng…"

"Better," Tseng smiled and bit down, hard, on Rufus's shoulder.

Harder now, almost ragged, and Tseng's breaths were need and ache and _fuck _and his eyes were black and endless and Rufus got sucked into them, wondering how all that fire had remained hidden beneath the surface for so long. And then Tseng was shuddering and coming and collapsing against him and they were sliding down the glass to the floor, Rufus on his knees with Tseng bent over him, hand tight and moving on his cock until the world came to an end. Rufus closed his eyes then—he couldn't help it. The heat and the light and the fucking _pleasure _wouldn't let him keep them open, but he felt it as Tseng dragged his hand up his chest, smearing the fucking mess against his skin, and he suddenly realized that he didn't care. He could take a shower later. Right now…

Rufus sighed and relaxed. Tseng was probably right about that. He _did _need to relax.

Tseng relaxed as well, pulling Rufus back with him until he was leaning against the bed and Rufus was leaning against him and they were both staring into the mirror. He cleared his throat. "You aren't going to die, you know."

Rufus cocked an eyebrow. "I have Geostigma."

"I saw," Tseng murmured.

"There is no cure."

Tseng shrugged. "You still aren't going to die."

Rufus shook his head and laughed, his first real laugh in…years, maybe. "Whatever you say, Tseng. I can't really confess to caring at the moment."


End file.
